


Midnight Memories

by bonnibelsrockshirt



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: F/F, Gay, I was gonna make sth happen, Lesbian, Some angst, anyway feedback is super appreciated, because why the hell not, but not enough to cry, but then the FEELS got in the way, drabblet, femslashfebruary2017, i don't even drink milk I'm lacto intolerant, this is a whole one shot of pbs feelings, unless you read it alone in the middle of the night with a glass of milk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 19:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9622847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonnibelsrockshirt/pseuds/bonnibelsrockshirt
Summary: Bonnibel misses her rock shirt. Actually, she misses a lot more than that; she misses the girl who gave it to her.No it doesn't have anything to do with one direction I just couldn't figure out another tittle I'll think about a better one later okFemslash February 2017





	

**Author's Note:**

> What the fuck is this summary honestly
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fic :)

“Stop being so stupid”, Bonnibel whispered to herself, not exactly sure if she had said it out loud. There was no one near her room, anyway. 

She sighed, still staring at her clothes. There was a whole pile of pajamas, and some other comfortable clothes she could wear to sleep. But it just felt wrong, to hear that stuff that night. 

‘It's not bad’, she thought, grabbing a random shirt in the middle of all those pink clothes. The texture was comfortable. The model was similar. 

With a frown, Bonnibel left it in the closet. She threw herself on the bed, frustrated, eyes closed, and sighed again. 

Of course, she could wear anything she wanted, she could have all those new clothes every girl wants. But she just wanted that shirt. And it was out of her reach. 

She used to wear it to sleep, often. Not every night, only when she felt like she needed to. Only when she felt lonely. The shirt would make her feel better, protect her intimately, and comfort her more than any other object ever could. On that moment, she would give all her work, all the valuable knowledge she had acquired over decades of studying science, everything, to have that shirt back. 

“Stop being so…” Bonnibel rubbed her eyes, mad with herself. “Argh.”

She just really needed comfort that night. The week had been hard, and she had a very bad day. 

Sometimes she asks herself why she wore that shirt so often before she gave it to the witch, in exchange of Hambo, the old teddy bear. She asks herself a lot, but she already knows the answer. It was from the person she loved the most, the girl that made her heart explode and her brain freeze, and still do. It was Marceline’s. 

Marceline had given her the shirt literally decades ago. She bought it in a rock concert, it was part of a collection of “punk” items that couldn't be found anywhere anymore. Of course, Marceline had been too shy to give it to her – until she accidentally spilled strawberry milkshake all over the pink shirt Bonnibel was wearing, and had to give her the present anyway. Later that night, Marceline was the one who took it off of her, and on the next morning, she wore it as she tried to cook breakfast – and failed. 

Still laying on the bed with her eyes closed, Bonnibel started wondering about their relationship. She had met Marceline when she was very young, but something inside of her said they knew each other from another life. It could be because of time; they had spent too much time together, too much time apart, and too much time pretending nothing had happened between the two of them. She knew every side of Marceline, from every perspective there could be. 

Her thoughts wandered through her memories, and Marceline’s voice echoed in her mind. The way she whispered softly on Bonnibel’s ear sent shivers down her spine. She remembered the emotions the vampire’s voice carried when she sang, and it made her smile. 

Bonnibel didn't know how to explain that feeling. What she felt towards Marceline was the only thing she couldn't explain with a scientific equation. And that made her feel… frustrated. 

Yes, that was it. She just felt so frustrated, all the time. When she remembered how beautiful Marceline looked when the moonlight reached her body while she laid between the sheets, pretending to be asleep so she could spend the night on the bed with her. Bonnibel wanted to touch her, kiss the soft skin of her neck, press her body against her until there was nothing separating the two of them. But she couldn't. And that made her feel so fucking frustrated. 

Bonnibel felt the urge to scream. But she couldn't do that, of course. Her hand grabbed the pillow next to her, and buried her face in it. 

The mental image she had of herself was mad at her. ‘Stop thinking about her’. Her own voice echoed through her mind. ‘Stop thinking about Marceline’.

Shy tears began to fall through her closed eyes. She rolled over the bed, burying her face on the sheets and pillows and biting her lip as if it could stop her eyes from watering.


End file.
